


🐞Beatles Requests!🐌

by skyofblue_seaofgreen



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Requests!, read the first chapter for all the info :0, will add more tags as the requests go on.....
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29932875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyofblue_seaofgreen/pseuds/skyofblue_seaofgreen
Summary: Just me doing some Beatles-themed requests. Read the information in the first chapter before asking please! Thank you! -Blue 🍋
Comments: 39
Kudos: 11





	1. Information!

🌊Hello!🌊

I'm Blue! I'm sure some of you have seen my stuff before, and you know that I don't write a lot of oneshots. Well, I wanted to get some of the practice in! And what better way to do that than to ask for requests? I did this back during Halloween (and I may or may not have completely forgot about them 😬) but this time that won't happen >:)!! Okay so here are the rules!!

I will write pretty much anything that isn't NSFW (more on that later). You can request stuff for ships if you want (ie McLennon or Starrison) but keep in mind it must be pretty PG! Plus, your requests don't have to be just the four Beatles...anyone related to the Beatles in some way I will write about (for example, the people in the tags). I will write oneshots for AUs and the like as well. I love that sort of stuff! Mild gore is acceptable...nothing off the charts though. I'd like not to make anyone upset if I can help it. 

Again, I won't write anything inappropriate/NSFW. I'm extremely uncomfortable with everything underneath that umbrella so please just don't even bother asking as I will ignore it and/or delete your comment. If you think something _might_ be in that category, don't ask. I think that leaves it pretty open for stuff anyways...just please be respectful of that and we'll be all good. 

I will try to finish your request in at least 1-3 days, but as you all know things happen in life and it may take a little longer! Try not to get impatient, I'm trying my best! Usually I think I'm pretty reliable, though. There's no format for how you request either. Anyways...I think that's about it. Let the creative juices flow and ask away!!

-Blue 🍋


	2. CyberJohn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was wondering if you could do a little something based on this AU I got called CyberRock John. Basically John is completely rebuilt into a cyborg after surviving his attack, I got a oneshot of it here too. If not I can suggest something else."   
> Here it is!! I was so excited I got done really quickly!! This request is from my good friend Lennon_Cuddlywump! Please go check out their AU...it rocks! 🍋

John was...aware that he was a miracle of science. A miracle of  _ nature. _ He had practically been brought back from the dead. He was supposed to have  _ died _ that December night, but he had managed to stay alive by the blessing that was technology. And now he was more cyborg (that was what the doctor called it) than human. It felt like a nightmare. And sure, it was a few weeks ago, but he was still having trouble coming to terms with it.

He knew he probably looked like a robot. He probably looked  _ terrifying, _ actually. His right eye had been replaced by a plate of silver and some sort of mechanical eyeball that he was still trying to figure out how to use. His left arm was...gone and replaced by a prosthetic covered in red, green, and yellow wires. And his left ear was remolded into some sort of satellite to replace the pinna. So...yeah. He looked...interesting. Like something from a sci-fi movie. Of course, he’d covered himself with a large sweater to keep anyone from staring too much. He still didn’t know how Cynthia was going to react. Never mind Julian.

John stared down at the land coming between the white clouds. He covered his fake eye with a hand and looked down with his regular one. Cynthia and Julian were down there. The family he wished he’d never left. Shifting in his seat, he slowly moved the fingers on his robotic hand. He was terrified. What if Cyn rejected him? He didn’t think he would ever forgive himself for dropping them off for Yoko. He still loved Sean, though...in his wildest fantasies the four of them could be one happy family. But that would never work...not in a thousand years.

He jolted as the plane touched down and pulled his sweater down over himself. Brushing himself off, John heaved his bag up from under his seat. He’d brought some things for Cyn and Julian. One thing especially for Julian...he heaved it up under his arm to keep it from getting damaged.

The taxi ride to Cynthia’s home was agonizing. The driver knew him. But the elephant in the room (car) was about to make the walls explode. John didn’t say much and just stared out the window. He’d been here many times before...once with May. He and Julian had some good bonding time. 

They pulled up beside Cynthia’s home. John’s thoughts roared in his head. He could see Julian’s bike leaned up against the side of the house. A lawn chair sitting on the green. He knew she was married. But he wasn’t trying to get back with her, really. Just to clear the air. He still loved her...and even though he was married now as well…

Before he could finish the thought, he could see Julian coming out from the house with the trash.  _ Good lad,  _ John thought, a wave of pride washing over him. Slowly, he got out of the taxi and stood there, waiting for Julian to notice he was there. The boy glanced over at him for a moment, looked away, and then did a double take. His eyes grew wide. “ _ Dad _ …?”

John held his arms out, dropping his stuff completely. Julian bolted towards him, nearly knocking him over with his hug. “Dad. Oh, god. I thought you were going to die.”

“Almost as tall as me now, son,” John said, ignoring his last sentence.

Julian wiped his eyes as he stared up at John. “So you’re...like…”

“Yeah, part robot, I guess,” John said with a grin.

Julian laughed, but it was more of relief. “Oh...can I get your stuff?”

“Wait, wait.” John sat down on the curb with a groan of effort and grabbed one of his cases. It was an old, beaten guitar case. John unlatched it and opened the top. There it was: in all its blue-and-white glory. His ‘61 Stratocaster.

Julian’s jaw dropped. “Wow.”

“It’s all yours, son,” John said, moving it towards him. 

Julian stared at him for a while, unbelieving. “No way.”

“Go ahead. I don’t need it anymore. If you’re gonna be a buddin’ rocker like your old man, might as well get a start with some of the best instruments ever made,” John said as he pulled it out of the case. He remembered playing this one back in ‘65. His metal fingers landed over the strings. They knew what to do. John began to strum as a few electrical notes came out. He hadn’t played it in a while, but he knew the feeling. “It’s yours.”

Julian held it like it was the holy grail. “I don’t know if I…” He slowly plucked a string. 

“Jules?”

John looked over his son’s head to see Cynthia poking her head out from the door. Her brown eyes were wider than saucers. “Oh my god!” She ran out across the lawn. “John?”

They stood there, about two feet apart, in complete silence. John could feel the heaviness of the situation. He was here...she was there...right there. But they were miles, countries,  _ worlds _ apart now. 

Until they weren’t.

Cyn stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. John sighed, letting himself relax. “I’m sorry, Cyn,” he murmured as hot tears filled his eyes. Well...eye. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t answer. John didn’t blame her. What could she say? He had hurt her so much over the years. But he was so sorry... _ so _ sorry...he could feel everything come crashing down now. Everything he’d done to her. She didn’t deserve him, really. But this was what life was about...new beginnings, apologizing, making things right. John was so lucky to be able to  _ live _ . After what felt like an eternity, Cynthia pulled back, her eyes gleaming with tears. Julian watched them, a trace of a grin on his face. Cynthia smiled. “Wanna come inside for tea?” she said, nodding to the door. 

John laughed, wiping his eye. “Sure, Miss Hoylake. Sure.”


	3. Drag Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have one too, if I may: (Inspired by some Cirilee's art). The Silver Beatles and The Hurricanes get into a fight; but Ringo sets up a drag race, and whoever wins, gets Ringo. Unfortunately, both teams end up trashing their cars; however, Ringo congratulates Rory for surviving, meanwhile, George is extremely jealous. If you can't do this, it's totally fine!”  
> Here you go!! This one was hilarious to write! This request was from IAmTheQueenofMyself and based off of Cirilee's art! 🍋

“A  _ drag _ race?” Paul echoed as he, John, and George looked over the note that had been slipped under their door. “And whoever wins gets Ringo for the night? I...I don’t think so.”

“Oh, c’mon, Macca,” John grinned mischievously. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure we’ll win.”

“How are you so sure? You can hardly see,” Paul replied.

“I won’t be the one driving, idiot.”

“Jerk.”

“Clod!”

“Can you two shut up for  _ maybe _ three seconds?” George groaned from his mattress. He’d been trying to sleep for the past two hours, but considering the fact that it was nearly noon, the prospect of that happening was beginning to fade. 

“Come on, George,” John called, ripping the blanket off of him. “We’re gettin’ the car and goin’ down to the Star-Club and racing the Hurricanes for Ringo.”

George’s eyes shot open. “For Ringo?” he said as he immediately popped up. “Okay.” He slid out of bed and stood up, pulling his jacket over his head and straightening the sleeves. “Who’s going to drive?”

“I was assuming I would,” Paul said as he scuffed his black pompadour. 

“Nope, I’m going to,” George said nearly over him. 

Paul turned around. “What?”

“Yeah. I can’t trust you to make it fair, cheater,” George grinned. 

Paul rolled his eyes and scoffed as the three of them made their way out the door. George was filled with determination that they would get Ringo after all this...as long as he didn’t crash the car, anyway.

The Star-Club wasn’t far from their hotel (if you could even call it that). By the time they got there, George could already see Rory Storm and his car with the rest of the bandmates piled inside. Ringo leaned on the side of the beaten-up convertible, a bright red flag in his hand. George stepped on the glass and barely managed to stop as he came up right beside the Hurricanes’ car. “Calm down, Geo, we haven’t even started yet!” Paul said as he rolled down the window.

Rory did the same, flashing a cheeky grin to the other car. “Y-you’re not g-going to get Ritchie th-this time!” he said, letting his characteristic stammer through. Usually his voice was smooth as butter, but that was only when he was singing. 

“Yeah, right, twat!” John teased from the backseat. “We’ll have him for the whole night!”

“Okay, okay,” Ringo shut down the taunting before it could get worse. “We’re racing from the Star-Club all the way down to the end of Große Freiheit, alright?” he said above the merciless roaring of engines. “Whoever gets there first wins. Or...whoever doesn’t die, I guess.”

“That’ll be us, hopefully,” Paul muttered. 

“Got it?” Ringo raised his flag, and George shot a glare over to Rory. “Ready...set... _ go _ !”

George slammed his foot down on the gas pedal as the two cars took off. Paul shrieked and John shoved his head in between the two of them. Eyes stuck on the road ahead, George leaned forward. “Where are they?”

“Right on our tail!” John answered. “I think we might win this after all...oh, wait, never mind.”

From the corner of his eye, George could see the Hurricanes’ car come right up next to theirs. Rory sped up a bit, and George did the same, so they were neck and neck. “Keep going!” John shouted.

“The pedal’s as far down as it can go!” George growled.

“I think we are  _ going _ to die,” Paul groaned.

“Shut up, shut  _ up _ !” George shot past the intersection. He suddenly heard a banging of metal against their car. “The hell was that?”

“They’re hitting us,” John growled.

“Throw something at them,” Paul suggested.

John grabbed an age-old banana peel from under the seat, rolled down the window, and chucked it at the other car as it splattered across their windshield. It caught the Hurricanes off-guard and they veered off course. “Ha! Got ‘em!” George laughed as their car crashed into a light.

“George!” Paul screamed as he turned his attention back to the road. They were heading right towards a building. Paul lurched forward to grab the wheel in a desperate attempt to stop the car, but George took his foot off the gas too late and they slammed into the side of the building with a  _ bam. _

The three of them sat there, panting in complete shock. Smoke rose from the hood of the car (which couldn’t really be called a hood anymore based on the damage). “You could have gotten us killed!” Paul yelled, swatting at George’s head as he ducked.

“Well it’s not  _ my _ fault you grabbed the wheel before I could turn!” he shouted back.

“We might as well go see if the Hurricanes made it out alive,” John said as he opened the door. George and Paul did the same, brushing themselves off. George wondered if they might have won since they got farther than the Hurricanes’ car, but technically they had cheated. He wondered what Ringo’s ruleset was.

Crossing the road, George skidded down the slope to the light post. Ringo was leaning in the window. “Are they alive, then?” Paul said.

“You th-threw a banana at-t us!” Rory shouted, shoving Ringo’s head down. 

“You were hittin’ us anyway,” John rolled his caramel-colored eyes.

“Hey,” Ringo held out his hands. “Stop fightin’.”

“So who won, then?” George leaned against the hood and crossed his arms. 

“I mean…” Ringo looked over his shoulder at the Silver Beatles and then back at the Hurricanes. “ _ Technically _ …”

“We won, we get Ringo,” John cut him off. 

“But you  _ did _ throw a banana at them.”

“They were—”

“ _ So _ how about  _ this _ ,” Ringo proposed. “I play for both of you tonight.”

The two bands exchanged glares and scowls before, finally, Rory dipped his head in a nod. “O-okay. Deal.”

“Fine, deal,” John stuck out his hand, and Rory shook it. Meanwhile George was surging with envy. Why were the two bands constantly fighting over Ringo? And why wouldn’t Ringo choose someone? George knew it really wasn’t about that, though. He really liked Ringo and wanted to know more about him, never mind the fact that he was a fantastic drummer. George sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He knew that one day, Ringo would be the Beatles’ drummer and the Beatles’ drummer alone. And George wouldn’t have to share him with Rory Storm and the Hurricanes ever again.


	4. Pattie Sets Off!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I once had a very specific dream about Pattie Boyd deciding that if George was going to make her quit modeling anyway then she may as well go to university. I don't remember anything else in the dream. If you would like to, it would be really cool to see this turn into an actual plot.” Here we are! This request is from leeisapotato! I hope it did your dream justice! 🍋

Pattie sighed as she slung her books over the side of her chair. She looked around the lecture hall, glad nobody was here yet. She knew she’d be looked at with google eyes from the other students, and she had accepted it. But this was what she needed to do...no, what she  _ wanted _ to do, really. Sort of.

She was going back to university, but...not in the way you would think. She was intensely interested in photography, and if she wasn’t in front of the camera she was going to be behind it. She loved pictures and photographs of all kinds, how every shadow was outlined starkly against white and how colors could pop off the picture and catch your eye. She had taken photos before, as many had in her inner circle, but she seemed to get the most compliments on her snapshots, so...why not expand on it?

It wasn’t the most conventional type of university, but it was a lot less stressful than a regular one. She and her various classmates spent hours outside, taking pictures of random people and plants and general things they found interesting. Pattie especially liked framing flowers; there were so many different types and varieties that were all so beautifully colorful. Occasionally a butterfly would land on the petals. Those were some of her most treasured ones. 

Pattie took her newfound passion home with her, too. George jokingly called her his ‘personal paparazzi’ because she was always taking photos of him when he least expected it. Pattie knew a little bit of his openness toward her photography was because he felt bad for insisting she quit modelling, but she always liked seeing his reactions to the snapshots she took. He even hung one on the wall (another butterfly). 

Her professor was...a little out there, to say the least. Every so often he would randomly paste a newspaper on the wall or scatter a shredded, dried flower across their workspace. Sometimes he would mutter to himself, but Pattie knew he meant well. Probably just...not totally  _ there. _

“So...graduatin’, ehh?” George was saying one evening after class. Pattie was going through her camera, trying to find the very best of all the snapshots she’d taken that year. “At twenty-five.”

“Better late than never,” Pattie replied. “Besides, our professor’s putting on a gallery for every student. Anyone can come.” She glanced back at George, who was attempting to put together their constantly faulty lamp. “Are you gonna come, dear?”

“Of  _ course _ ,” George answered, and then immediately cursed when the lamp flickered on and then off again. “Gotta get a new bulb...”

Pattie lifted the camera to her eye and took a picture.

\---

Eventually the day of the exhibition came. Pattie arrived to see all of her best photos set up in her own little corner. She stood in front of them, filled with pride. At the beginning of the year, she was terribly uneasy about this, but now she felt like it was her next mission. To take her own little piece of the world and broadcast it through her eyes.

“Pattie!”

Startled, she turned around to see George heading toward her, the biggest grin in the world on his face. “Wow.” He stared up at Pattie’s gallery, eyes gleaming in the overhead lights. “Really swell, Pattie.”

“Thanks,” she replied with a laugh. “I really like them too.”

“Oh, I...er...have a little surprise for ya,” George glanced down at her. “I may have invited some... _ other _ folks.”

Puzzled, Pattie looked over his shoulder to see a mob of familiar people flood the room. John, Cynthia, Paul, Jane, Ringo, Maureen! “George, you didn’t have to do that!” Pattie couldn’t help but beam. “Don’t they have other things to do?”

“None of ‘em were too busy to come see you,” George said. “Listen, Pattie, we know this is important to ya. And they wanted to be there for ya on such an important day...like real mates, yeah?”

Pattie swelled with even more pride as her friends surrounded her photographs, complimenting them and looking over them in awe. “Yeah!” she said with a smile so bright it rivaled the sun.


	5. Count Epstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would it be alright if I suggested some Lennstein, but with John doing his best to comfort and reassure Brian, who's just been turned into a vampire?” This request is from Classic_Rocker2000 and was tremendous fun to write! 🍋

“Oh,  _ god _ , John...what am I going to do?” Brian felt lower than low, terrified, and desperate all at once as he sat on the balcony of his home and looked over the morning sky. “How could this have happened? It feels like a horror movie.”

“Shoulda known that kid was a vampire, Bri,” John grinned. “I mean...when he went in for yer neck…”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Brian groaned. “It doesn’t matter now...what am  _ I _ going to do? It feels like I’m going through puberty again! Suddenly I have this overwhelming urge for blood...the sun  _ burns _ , and what’s gonna happen next? I turn into a bat?”

“Oh, tell me, Eppy, what does echolocation feel like?” John joked, but it was very obvious from his expression that he was just as worried as Brian was. “Maybe it’s just a temporary thing, y’know? Like it’ll be over by next week?”

“Sure,” Brian muttered, rubbing the bite marks on his neck. They still hurt, even though it had been a few nights since he’d been bitten. At first, he hadn’t known what was going on when a random fan from one of the Beatles’ performances grabbed his head and sunk his teeth into Brian’s neck, but now he was acquiring some  _ very _ strange features and (though he’d never tasted it before), he suddenly needed blood with every fiber of his being. He didn’t _ want _ it, though. 

“We should probably go in,” John looked over his shoulder at the door. “Y’know, ‘cause the sun is comin’ up.”

Brian put his hands on the railings and stood up. “No.” He shook his head. “I want to see how long I can stay out here without hurting.”

“Alright,” John replied, but he didn’t seem very sure that Brian was going to be able to endure this for that long. 

Brian narrowed his eyes and stared at the ground. He still had a good ten minutes before the sun was already up, he’d be  _ fine. _ He was probably just sick the past couple days...yeah, sick. He’d be fine by today. He felt normal!

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Brian felt a piping hot sensation on his face. “Ow,” he hissed, pulling back. “Ow, ow, ow…”

“What, what?” John stood up as Brian covered his face with his hands. “Are you alright, Eppy?” 

“God!” Brian shouted. “It feels like someone poured coffee on me!”

“Come on, we gotta go inside.”

Brian didn’t have the energy to protest as John ushered him inside to the wonderfully cool bedroom. Brian trailed around the bed to the closet, where he was sure he’d be safe. Before John could stop him, Brian shut himself inside and relished in the darkness as the heat melted away. 

“Brian? Are you okay?” Concern laced John’s voice. 

Brian didn’t answer, sliding down the wall and onto the floor. He was really that helpless now...that even the  _ sun _ (which hadn’t even been all the way in the  _ sky _ ) was causing him pain. How was he supposed to live the rest of his life...which, by folklore’s standards, was supposed to last  _ forever? _ Brian felt tears fill his eyes and he attempted to rub them away. 

Finally, John decided to come into the closet. “Eppy, come on,” he said, crouching down in front of him. “Don’t get upset, really, don’t.”

“How can I not get upset?” Brian said, unable to keep his sobs in anymore. “How am I supposed to live like this?”

John gazed at him, unable to answer. Brian had never felt so low in his life…that not even  _ John _ had a snide remark, a witty answer. There was just deep empathy and pity in John’s eyes, which was very uncharacteristic of him. 

“Bite me.”

Brian’s gaze flitted up to John. “What?”

“Well, you heard me,” the Beatle said. 

“Why?”

“Because...well...if you’re a... _ vampire, _ or whatever,” John shrugged. “They’re supposed to transmit their  _ vampire-ness _ to other people by bitin’ em, right?”

“Yeah…”

“So...if you bite  _ me, _ then…”

Brian scowled. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

“Come on. Might as well suffer together, right?”

“I don’t want  _ you _ to go through this as well! That’d be cruel.”

“Not if I want it.”

Brian sighed. “I...I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will,” John insisted, holding out his wrist. “There’s supposed to be some kind of vein in here, right? So you’ll get the most blood out of there.” He grinned mischievously. “I know you  _ want _ it…”

Brian couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop, I’m not going to do that.”

John crossed his arms. “Well, I’m not leaving until you do,” he said indignantly. 

“We’ll be here all day. I have things to do.”

“So you might as well get it over with!” John responded.

Brian groaned, dragging his hands through his hair. “I’d feel bad if I did it. Like all the sudden you’d regret it and then I’d look like the jerk.”

John laughed. “I would never look at you like a jerk, Bri. And besides, I wouldn’t be insisting like this if I didn’t really want you to do it!” 

Brian scowled again. “Are you absolutely, surely, one-hundred percent sure?”

John didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.” Giddy like a child, he held out his wrist.

Brian stared down at it, unsure how to do this. Usually vampires went in for the neck in films, but Brian was far too sheepish to do that, so he guessed he’d have to just do the best with what he had, which was...John’s wrist. So...not the worst place to be. 

Brian leaned in. 

“Come on,” John said impatiently.

“Okay, okay, give me a break,” Brian answered. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah, but it can’t be that hard. Just take a bite.”

Brian burst out laughing again. This was so absurd! “Okay,” he said, grabbing John’s arms and staring down at it. “Are you su—”

“Just do it, Eppy. We don’t have all day.” 

Brian decided not to hesitate anymore, and leaned in, sinking his growing fangs into John’s skin. He felt it break and the metallic tang of blood filled his senses. Before he could get too enthralled, Brian pulled back, wiping the blood from his mouth.

John was staring down at his bleeding wrist, shock in his eyes. Brian’s face fell. He knew John would regret it the minute it happened. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have…”

John met his gaze, and to Brian’s surprise, grinned. “Wow!” he laughed. “You actually did it!”

Brian stared at him. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” John wiped his wrist on his shirt, staining it with red. “I asked for this, Bri. Because if you’re gonna be hurtin’, I wanna be hurtin’ alongside you. I couldn’t sit by and watch you do this on your own with no idea how it feels.” He sighed, staring down at the new marks. “And you know what else?”

“What?”

“Vampires live forever, right?” John glanced up at him, beginning to smile. “So...by that logic, we’ll be able to spend the rest of eternity together.”

Brian laughed again, pulling John in for an embrace. “I love ya, Johnny,” he said.

John gazed up at him with a smile. “I love you too, Eppy.”


End file.
